


Northward Bound

by TheGoldenGhost



Category: Vingt mille lieues sous les mers | Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea - Jules Verne
Genre: (actually narwhals), Arctic Exploration, Hypothermia, I can't believe there was actually a tag for that, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oh wait, Post-Canon, Seals (Animals), Whales, aaaaand seals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-13 17:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21498145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoldenGhost/pseuds/TheGoldenGhost
Summary: The crew of the Nautilus makes a journey to the North Pole. On the way they run into a bit of trouble, and Pierre Aronnax reconsiders his reasons for staying aboard the wondrous ship.
Relationships: Pierre Aronnax/Capitaine Nemo | Pierre Aronnax/Captain Nemo
Comments: 27
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I feel like I should mention a few things that I didn't cover in the story up here.
> 
> Basically, this takes a long time (about 3 years) after the end of TKLUTS, and The Mysterious Island is going to be null and void for the purposes of this AU. Pierre Aronnax and Conseil are still aboard the Nautilus. The why and how of this are up to you, the reader, because frankly, I, the author, don't really care how it happened.
> 
> I just wanted to tell this story. Maybe they never left, maybe they left during the Maelstrom per canon and then returned. All headcanons are welcome here because I left the reasoning intentionally vague. 
> 
> Also noteworthy, Nemo and Aronnax are very much in a stable relationship at this point. The Nautilus is no longer used as a vehicle of destruction either (except perhaps on icebergs) but I consider that turnaround to have taken place in TKLUTS proper and therefore don't really think I need to explain why. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!

The sky was dark and the air was cold. Pierre Aronnax stood near the bow of the _Nautilus_, watching to see if the aurora was likely to appear. In the two days since they’d entered the Arctic Circle, there had been no sign of it.

“A pity,” Pierre said to Conseil, who stood close beside him. “But just think of all that we’ll see when we reach the sea of ice! Walruses, seals, perhaps even ice bears. And belugas! Those brilliant white whales of the north.”

“Indeed,” Conseil agreed. “And the blind sharks, too, I hope.”

“Ah, yes. I’d love to see one of those.” Pierre had heard of these sharks, the Greenland sharks, or ‘sleepers’, who loved cold water and were notable for having their eyes devoured by worms, but he had not yet had the fortune of coming near one. Perhaps, later on, they could go for a dive to search up close, but the water here was terribly cold, and almost so deep as to be too dangerous to leave the _Nautilus_.

The sky was bright and remarkably clear, with Polaris glittering overhead, giving sign that they were getting ever-closer to the Pole that they were seeking. Around it were the other hallmarks of the northern sky; Thuban, the old pole-star, Capella, the brilliant harbinger of autumn, and Arcturus, the impressive red giant. The further north they traveled, all the northern stars came out, even those that would have dipped below the horizon at lower latitudes. It gave prescience to where they were in the world. Pierre thought again of the possibility of seeing an ice bear close up, and he shivered.

“Cold, Monsieur?” Conseil asked politely.

“A little,” Pierre had to admit it was getting chilly, being early November and what with them heading so far north. “But I shall withstand it. After all, where we’re going we’re bound to all feel the frost in our bones!”

“None as much as you, though, I would expect,” a new voice, strong and melodious, carried across the ship’s prow. Pierre and Conseil turned to see the captain striding casually towards them. “I have to say, Pierre, that after so many months aboard the _Nautilus,_ it amazes me that you haven’t become accustomed to the elements, as we all have!”

“Just because you have an unnatural resilience to all climates doesn’t mean everyone does!” Pierre retorted.

Nemo smiled, inclining his head to Conseil in greeting, which Conseil returned. “What would you say, Conseil? Have you ever heard a man complain so much about the cold as this one does?”

“Well,” Pierre retorted before Conseil could respond, “Perhaps a better question would be whether he’s ever heard a man so gallantly refuse to admit the temperature is unsuitable, be it forty-five degrees or thirty below!”

“Nothing more than a mild spring day,” Nemo said, giving Pierre’s head a quick kiss. He still rarely showed affection towards Pierre in view of his men, but he was learning. In any case, Conseil was the professor’s man, and therefore could not pass judgement.

They watched the waves for a while. Nemo had his arms around Pierre, and so the professor felt warm and secure in his presence. Conseil, too, was content and peaceful as they stared out at the northern sea. “We should be reaching the ice shelf north of Siberia by tomorrow, nine o’ clock,” Nemo said at last. “I would advise you both to be prepared by then.”

“Have you assigned the parties?” Pierre asked.

“Yes. You and I will lead the first, with Conseil, René, and Jukka. Petrakis can have Markus, Thomas, and Rajeev and Dougal can take Elijah, Suresh and Leopold. Does this suit you?”

“Very good,” Pierre replied. He was glad to be with some of his closest friends aboard the _Nautilus_, and was also happy that Nemo had decided to take him along with him rather than having him head his own team. He would have done it, and easily, but he preferred exploring with Nemo and Conseil.

“Excellent, then. We shall likely head off at the appointed hour, or shortly thereafter. Be ready,” with that, he patted Pierre on the shoulder and headed back down. Conseil and Pierre watched him retreat. A moment later, Conseil caught Pierre’s eye and gave him a knowing look, and Pierre smiled sheepishly.

“Did you ask him, yet?” Conseil asked. Pierre shook his head. Conseil alone among the men of the _Nautilus_ knew of the professor’s intentions; that in spite of the fact that he was almost certain he’d get a negative answer, he wanted to ask Nemo to marry him. It had been nearly a year now since they’d finally admitted they loved one another and began – whatever it was they were doing, this courtship of sorts that seemed to have no goal or purpose. It was lovely, and Pierre would have done it forever. But how much more lovely would it be to _declare_ a purpose to it?

“Well, you had better get a move on! What are you waiting for?”

“I wanted to ask him when we reached the Pole,” Pierre replied. “The South Pole was one of the places we were closest, on the first voyage. I thought if I asked him when we reached the North, when it was clear to him that I would follow him to the ends of the Earth… it would have meaning.”

“It will have meaning, I think,” Conseil agreed. “But suppose we don’t reach the Pole?” This was a distinct possibility. The journey south had been a perilous one, and it had taken weeks of convincing to get Nemo to attempt to make it to the north. His old recklessness and his inability to refuse Pierre anything had won out in the end, however.

“Then I will ask some other time,” Pierre said. It likely did not matter, as Pierre was fairly sure Nemo would refuse. He’d married once; to Sharada, and his loyalty to her ran strong and deep in him. Pierre knew this, understood it, and rarely felt jealous of his captain’s wife. Nemo had taken Pierre as a companion and partner, a lover. This, in itself, was an incredible thing, and more than Pierre would have ever imagined, years ago when he’d been taken captive aboard this very ship that he now traveled as a free man. For Nemo to think of him as a spouse would surely be an overstep.

All the same, he had to give it a try. He thought of what it was like to be around Nemo, to discuss notes and ideas late at night when they should be sleeping, to listen to the tones of his organ while Pierre worked, to nap in his strong and protective embrace. Or alternatively, to hold him, to stroke his hair and breathe in the smell of him, and to revel in the knowledge that he was the only man in the world to have ever had the pleasure of this sacred experience; the only man who’d ever slept beside Nemo as a lover. Pierre wanted only to honor their union and their love, and to prove to Nemo without any shadow of a doubt that he saw him as more than a lover but as a family member, a life partner, a soulmate.

Still. Sharada’s place was one of sanctity and if she was to be Nemo’s only spouse until the day he died, Pierre would more than understand, and accept this. He never tried to take her place in Nemo’s heart, only attempted to make his own, and was quite content to share.

But he had to ask. To think, what it would mean if the answer were yes – that was almost too much to contemplate. Where would they go from there? But the thought of their future together was worth it. Worth the possibility of disappointment. With these thoughts in mind, Pierre leaned forward to take in the icy sea breeze and tilted his head up to admire the stars that wavered high above.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first voyage out onto the ice shelf near Siberia brings about a distressing turn of events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small warning, this chapter does contain a brief mention of suicidal ideation. Nothing intense, though.

The next day was the first Arctic expedition, and Pierre was in the officer’s quarters with Dougal and Petrakis, two of the _Nautilus_’s three officers. Ishaan, the third, was not present, having taken up a sentry position earlier when they came too close to the Russian coast. For some reason, René was in there too. It was hard to predict when, where, and why René would show up. He was the youngest member of the crew, only about nineteen years old, and had a powerful liking for Conseil. Usually, wherever Conseil was, René was close behind, but if Conseil was not available, Pierre would do as a worthy stand-in. And so, the four of them were gathered together, engaged in a light discussion before it came time to go out onto the ice.

“I tell you, Professor, you must be a miracle worker!” Dougal exclaimed. “To get the old sinner to allow us foot on inhabited land? Unheard of! And more than that, to get him to step there himself!”

“With all due respect, Dougal, I don’t think we’re supposed to call the Captain ‘the old sinner,’” Petrakis replied in his usual mild way. He was the quietest and most easygoing of the officers, but this blended well with the brash and sometimes reckless personalities that surrounded him.

“Ah, he is one, and he knows it. But really, Professor, how did you convince him?”

Pierre smiled, and shrugged. The truth was simply that Nemo liked to impress Pierre; if he asked anything, Nemo was likely to give in to it eventually. “He put it this way; we are not going onto the land proper. We’ll be on the ice shelf that covers this part of the world in the autumn and winter, and therefore, for our purposes, it remains part of the sea and part of his jurisdiction.”

“A worthy loophole,” Petrakis remarked.

The clock on the wall indicated that it was 8 o clock, an hour before the designated meeting time, so Pierre opted for a story. “Dougal,” he asked the third officer. “You never did tell me how you came aboard the _Nautilus_.”

“Got tangled in the fishing nets while I was out for a swim,” Dougal replied, with a sly glance at Petrakis.

“That’s just a normal Tuesday, with you,” Petrakis muttered.

“You never told me, either! And I’ve been here for three years, so it’s about time!” René added.

“Ah, it’s a long story,” Dougal said with a shrug. “Petrakis has heard it already.”

“Many times,” Petrakis added. “I was there for some of it, in fact.”

“But the professor hasn’t heard it, I suppose. And René apparently hasn’t either, so maybe it’s worth telling again. All right. The short of it is that I got into a bit of a brawl defending my little brother from a few older boys who would have turned him into dogmeat. He was a quiet boy, and shy, like René here, except that unlike René here, he couldn’t throw a punch to save his life.”

“Of course, that’s nothing like me,” René added.

“ Of course. Trouble was, we did it along a scree, and one wrong hit sent one of those boys tumbling to his death. Now, I couldn’t face that, so I ran,” his voice grew quiet. “I ran for a long time. If it had gone to a trial, I would have been hanged, and rightly so. And I was – well, even then I was a fair enough sailor. So I went to England, got aboard a fishing boat, and changed my name and my hometown. No one knew me much or cared. I didn’t know where I’d end up in the long run. It… stayed with me, though. I was too close to home. Always too close to home.”

They were quiet for a little bit, before Dougal went on.

“Anyway. After seven or eight years of hiding anonymous I decided to get further away. Planned to head for France or maybe Denmark, and from there, maybe America, or China. God only knew. I thought I could make the journey on my own, easy enough, when the seas were calm and sweet, but no. My luck ran out and I turned over and near drowned. Last thing I saw was a great sea-creature moving my way through the black water. I thought for sure I’d either be eaten or sunk in the waves.”

Pierre nodded, remembering his first glimpse of the _Nautilus_ and how she’d rescued him from drowning.

“I awoke sometime later and assumed I was dead, in hell maybe. Everything was dark and quiet, but not cold and wet like the sea bottom. I was laid out in a bed in one of the holding cells we keep newcomers in, and I was well taken care of, with fresh clothes and the like laid out for me. Wasn’t long before I started to feel better, and was even shorter before I met the Captain. You know how he is; how he can be when you meet him. How he looks at you with those sad eyes.”

“His eyes are very sad,” René agreed. “Like that English dog! I don’t know the name in our language – or in English, either. It is something like… bagel? No, not that…”

“Bulldog?” Petrakis suggested.

“No, not that either. It’s spotted,” René said.

“Ah, a beagle!” Dougal exclaimed. “That’s perfect! And he does look like one, now that you say it! So, I was alone in a room with our poor beagle –“

“And you did not faint on the spot? My goodness,” Pierre said. “The first time I saw Nemo I did not think he was a very sad man. I thought he was… well, commanding. Magnificent. But I can only imagine what it would have been like to face him alone, without Conseil and Ned. I don’t think I would have handled that as calmly as I did!”

“But remember, professor, the ship had not been functioning so long. He was a younger man, and I guess more lost in his grief. He used to waver between listlessness and rage, but he always had that air of sadness around him. All the time, do you remember it, Petrakis?”

“I do,” Petrakis said. “I recall; I was afraid of him at first, and I came aboard just a few months before you. I think all the men were a little frightened by him to begin with. I’m glad he’s settled down now, that he has our professor,” he smiled at Pierre. “But you know, seeing how I came aboard, I could not judge him. It seemed we were destined to meet.”

“How did you come aboard?” René asked.

“My wife and baby son died of an illness. It was very sudden. I tried to drown myself, and was found by the _Nautilus_ instead.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment.

“Well, you’re not the first man aboard to try such a thing, Petrakis,” Dougal said. “But look where you are now. In any case, I’m glad you came aboard with us.”

“So am I,” Pierre said.

“Me too!” René added.

“And I’m glad you all did,” Petrakis replied with a gentle half-smile. “Even you, Pierre, after being treated so unkindly by us for so long. And you, Dougal, after that horror of your first two weeks aboard!”

“What happened the first two weeks aboard?” Pierre asked.

Petrakis and Dougal exchanged a glance. “That’s another long story,” Dougal said slowly. “I guess this is the day for them, eh? I may as well tell you, but don’t go bringing this up to the Captain,” Dougal said. “He hates thinking about this.”

“_I_ hate thinking about this,” Petrakis said. “If you’ll excuse me, my friends, I think I’ll go see whether Elijah has brought us close enough to the ice to disembark.” With that he left.

We’ll meet you out there, if we don’t see you before. Good luck,” Dougal called after him. “Anyway, to the story. About two weeks into my stay, there was a bad catch. Not sure what – some fish, some shellfish from an inhabited river we were traversing. The Captain used to use inland waterways more often, and would pick up food from there, but after this he stopped that practice entirely. Never wanted to risk it again,” Dougal shuddered.

“Was the food tainted?” Pierre asked.

“Aye, and badly. Not a man on board managed to escape falling ill, some of them only mildly, some severely. It lasted for more than ten days before everyone was out of danger. I was one of the lucky ones; only a little off for a while. Petrakis had it worse. But some of them… well, by the end of it, six men had died.”

“Six!” Pierre exclaimed. The current crew was only thirty-one. To lose six men would mean losing almost one-fifth of their number. For a smaller crew, the results would be even more devastating.

Dougal nodded, his face unusually somber as he recollected. “Six men. I barely knew any of them. But after that time; fighting for my life, spending all my waking hours trying to tend the sick and dying, I thought I’d be better off put ashore. On _any_ shore. Any place was better than this deathtrap.”

“What changed your mind?” René asked.

Dougal grinned crookedly. “The Captain’s honor,” he said, his voice quiet. “I was planning to go to him and demand to leave, but he beat me to it. Came to me in the cabin I stayed in, and told me flat-out that if I wanted to leave I would be put ashore wherever I pleased with as many provisions and necessities as I could carry, and I would owe them nothing. He didn’t even hold me to a vow of silence because you see, he considered me to be one of his own.”

“After two weeks,” Pierre said softly.

“Yes, already I was one of them, in his eyes. The Captain, mind you now, was one of the men who’d had the worst of the sickness. He’d barely pulled through at all. Even when he came to me, he was barely able to stand up, but in spite of that, he was back on full command. Ran his ship all day long and still had the thought to come to a newcomer, a stranger, and make sure he was taken care of. I was as important to him as his oldest friends aboard.”

“And you stayed because of that?” Pierre asked.

“I did. Not just because of that; but because I realized that I was on no ordinary ship, and I was with no ordinary men. How could I leave a place like this, when I had nowhere to go?” 

“This is not the type of ship one just… abandons,” Pierre replied.

“I would say so,” Dougal said. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’ll tell you this. I’d give every last breath in my body for this ship, and for her Captain.”

As if on cue, Petrakis stuck his head back into the room. “Not only are we ready, Elijah says we ought to get a move on. The Captain’s already out on the ice and we probably shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

“It’s only eight-thirty,” René replied.

“True, no one can say we’re late, but you know how impatient Elijah is when he’s allowed out of the pilothouse,” Dougal said with a laugh. “I don’t know he stands it! You won’t catch me in that little glass box with the light in my eyes all day and night. But, we really shouldn’t leave the Captain alone out there.”

“Elijah’s not a bad sort,” Pierre said. “Impatient, perhaps, but he means well. He’s going with you, isn’t he, Dougal?”

“Yes, and that means of course that with his all-patient attitude we’ll be back aboard the ship after a half an hour. That is, if we can find the ship, with Pyotr steering,” Pyotr was a junior helmsman, and quickly learning his position, although he didn’t quite have the ropes that Elijah had yet.

“Pyotr said just today that he was thinking of moving to engineering,” René told them. “So we should be safe from getting lost in the future.”

“But the future is not today,” Petrakis said lightly, with a grin. “So, let’s be sure to all double-check our compasses – and our signals!”

***

At ten past nine, Pierre was ready and dressed in his sealskin coat, otter fur hat, thick gloves, and glasses to keep away the driving winds, with his pockets full of all manner of scientific equipment. He climbed onto the platform and down the _Nautilus_’s solid hull, planting his feet on the icy surface. It was not land beneath, he knew. If the ice broke, he and his party would go plunging into the water and would probably die from the shock.

Better not think about that, though. And frankly, he was too excited.

He met Nemo out on the ice, surrounded by the small team of men who would be breaking into three parties, each one heading in a different direction to seek for different fauna, ice formations, and sea conditions.

“You’re late,” the captain said coolly. “I thought you would have been the first one out here, ready to head for that distant spot you’ve been so keen on!”

Pierre sidled up next to him, covertly giving his hand a light squeeze; not for any particular purpose, only to prove that it was his right. “Maybe I spent a bit too long of a time preparing. I didn’t want to have to return to the ship mid-journey!”

“Shall we move out?” Dougal asked. He and Petrakis were the two officers chosen to head parties. Ishaan would remain aboard with the rest of the men and guard the ship. Pierre wondered if perhaps Ishaan would be jealous, but then, he didn’t think Ishaan had enough feeling in him to experience true jealousy.

“You’ve both got your parties straight and have charted your courses?” Nemo asked. “You have your provisions, your flares, your safety equipment, your gear?”

“All situated, Captain,” Petrakis replied, looking over at Dougal. Pierre wondered briefly if the two of them might merge their parties, even though the official plan was to split up. They were close friends. According to them, Nemo had chosen Petrakis to serve as an officer under Ishaan, and from there, had given him leave to pick the third. When he named Dougal, the captain had agreed at once. Pierre now wondered if perhaps this had anything to do with Dougal’s actions during his first weeks aboard the ship. Either way, the two of them got on a good deal better than Ishaan did with any of them.

Pierre stopped thinking about bygones when Nemo continued to give orders. “Then we’ll be off. Return to the Nautilus in no less than six hours,” Nemo instructed, after checking that every man had provisions and emergency gear. Six hours out in the dim autumn light would be chilly but the sealskin coats would keep them warm enough for a short while even in the dipping temperatures, and it was not fully winter yet. They would have to return soon after, though. Even the men of the _Nautilus_ could not withstand the cold indefinitely.

They moved out. Conseil, who’d been standing apart with René and checking the equipment for their party, moved in beside Pierre. Nemo was out in front, speaking quietly to Jukka. They headed on in comfortable ease, hoping to track the way to the Pole before the others did. 

The blinding light of the ice and snow stung Pierre’s eyes even through his glasses, but he hardly felt the cold, he was pleased to note. His thermometer read that it was about 15 degrees below, practically a warm spring day.

He spent his day close to Conseil, pointing out formations in the ice, and at one point, stopping when he spotted a breathing-hole where seals came up for air. He waited in rapt attention, and soon the rest of the party had come up to see if a seal could be spotted. It took a long time, standing still, careful not to let their shadows fall on the water, but at last a sleek grayish head with a stubby snout popped from the water and gave a snort, catching its breath before diving back below.

Everyone was in good spirits after that, discussing what type of seal it was and if there was likely a pod nearby. Pierre had identified it easily; a ringed seal, known for its sleek, plump body and spotted fur. Conseil classified it. Branch _Pinnipedia_, family _Phocidae_, genus _Pusa_.

They also spotted a flock of northern seabirds far out past the ice, in the water, but they were too far out to identify accurately. Pierre thought they might be auks. Jukka brought up the idea of finding an albatross, and then for a while the men discussed birds they might see.

Nemo was quiet during all this, and Pierre watched his face closely to see if he was relaxed or tense, but he was unreadable. Still, the slight stiffness of his gait and the way he kept peering towards the horizon made Pierre worry. Perhaps he was only concerned about the proximity to Siberia, and inhabited land beyond.

The cold grew worse, and the wind started to pick up, but Pierre hardly noticed anything amiss until he saw Nemo stop dead. “Impossible,” the captain whispered. “I would have _seen_ it…”

“Captain?” Pierre asked in alarm. Jukka, René and Conseil all halted as well, following their leader’s gaze. Up ahead was a cloud, dark and foreboding, hanging like a harbinger in the darkening sky. The wind was blowing from that direction. All the men knew at once what it was; a northern ice storm.

One that, if it reached them, they would all be unlikely to survive.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the party tries to make it back to the Nautilus before a storm, Nemo recalls the night that he decided to head for the Pole in the first place.

“Gentlemen,” Nemo said. “We are going to return to the _Nautilus_, and with haste. Everyone is to stay within two feet of each other. If I give orders to hold on to each other, you do it. If we get caught in the storm, keep your heads down and covered, I’ll lead the way. We’re going to try to cover the seven kilometers we’ve traveled in around forty minutes.”

“Captain,” Pierre said gently. “We’d have to sprint for that.”

“Yes,” Nemo agreed. “We’ll be moving fairly quickly. Better to be tired out by running than to be frozen or lost in that coming storm,” the captain’s stoic calmness betrayed nothing of the fact that he was not only baffled by how the storm could have come upon them so quickly, but that he was terrified that none of them would make it out alive. “We can rest aboard. Let’s go.”

Pierre tried to protest again, but the other three men obediently began to keep pace after Nemo, and Pierre did the same, sticking close enough to Conseil to grab a hold of him if he needed to. Nemo, out in front, was within range of Jukka.

He couldn’t see Pierre behind him, and that bothered him. Although none of the men would admit it, nor would Nemo himself, they all knew Pierre was his top priority in times of danger. It was not that he did not cherish his crew and would not lay down his life for any of them. It was simply that, if it came to a choice between Jukka and Pierre, Jukka would lose out.

With everyone running, speech was impossible, so Nemo turned his thoughts inward to keep his mind off any external discomforts – fear, cold, fatigue. His rage at the storm and disgust with himself for not properly checking the barometer faded slowly as he instead began to recall why he’d come here in the first place. That warm and silken memory even the cold of the Arctic seemed unable to penetrate.

***

Pierre’s inquiry had come to him five months ago, in the spring, when they were in bed together enjoying each other’s most intimate companionship. They were in Pierre’s room, and Pierre was on his side reading a novel in Greek (which he was trying to learn) while Nemo traced waves and spiral patterns on the skin of his back.

“If you want my attention, you can just ask for it, sweetheart,” Pierre said gently.

Nemo didn’t respond. He hadn’t desired attention, only touch. He received it without even having to ask, when Pierre rolled over to kiss Nemo’s upturned face, running his hands along Nemo’s chest, down his shoulders arms until he could grasp Nemo’s hands tightly in his own.

When he pulled back a little, Nemo examined his face. Lovely as always, was his Pierre. His hair was only slightly mussed from napping, his face was rosy and gleaming as it usually did with vitality and strength. His eyes still held the exact depth and color of the ocean that Nemo so adored. “I should paint you sometime,” he said quietly. “If I remember how.”

“Paint me?” Pierre laughed, a sound that warmed Nemo to his bones, and shifted his position so he was straddling Nemo’s stomach, gripping his shoulders lightly and pressing him against the bed, trapping him there. Ordinarily it would have been a possessive gesture, but with Pierre it was all exuberance. All show, too. Nemo knew Pierre so well that he knew by heart that this trap was nothing more than a performance, and if he showed signs of discomfort Pierre would move away at once. “You’d paint me like this?”

“Not like this,” Nemo murmured. “_I’m_ the only one aboard this ship who’ll ever see you like this. No, I’d paint you as you are when you see a breed of previously unknown guppy. I’d paint that wonder and joy and intelligence into your face until everyone who saw it would know they’re looking at a most remarkable man.”

Pierre’s face flushed slightly, and he looked away. “Is it really like that? Looking at me?”

“I’ve seen it,” Nemo responded. “I’ve seen you, and I know what you’re worthy of.”

Pierre opened his mouth to speak, but instead he just placed a hand against Nemo’s cheek, stroking it gently.

It was something that always marveled Nemo; the tenderness with which Pierre touched him. As if he were some delicate sculpture made of paper-thin glass. Always caressed by this naturalist with reverence and respect. Pierre made his claims with Nemo boldly; never failing to ask permission and remaining attentive to the captain’s responses, but at the same time pressing forward in exploring Nemo’s body without either embarrassment or hesitation.

“My Nemo,” Pierre said. “There is something I wanted to ask you, but I doubt you’ll agree to it.”

“What is it?” In fact, Nemo was almost certain he would agree. The trouble with Pierre was that he was, without much effort at all, capable of turning Nemo’s insides to water, especially when he stroked his face in that way, and Pierre knew it.

“I want you to take me to the Pole.”

The water turned to ice. “Which Pole?”

“The North,” Pierre replied quickly, sensing Nemo’s tension and sliding off of him. “Think of the wildlife up there. Artic bears, narwhals, sleeper sharks, great sea-spiders!”

Nemo closed his eyes, imagining not the wildlife but the disaster that had befallen his ship and crew at the South Pole. How he’d come so close to watching each and every one of his friends perish miserably from suffocation while he stood by powerless to help. How afterwards, he’d begun to sink into that terrible despairing numbness that had crept around the recesses of his heart since his family had been picked off one by one. How it had turned him into a perfect wretch, unloving, unlovable, and bent only on causing suffering for suffering.

That numbness was still there. It no longer held him in its constrictive grip, but it was not gone. It was only dormant.

Pierre must have sensed that something had shifted inside Nemo, because he put his arms around the captain and held him tight. “It would be okay,” he said softly. “It wouldn’t be like last time. I promise you that.”

“You can’t promise it. You don’t know what will happen. You used to chide me for my recklessness, you know.”

“Recklessness, yes. But your boldness, your bravery! You still harbor those.”

“If anything like that happens again, I’ll go mad,” Nemo replied, swallowing hard. “I will, Pierre, and I will despise myself for it, but I don’t think I’ll be able to stop it. You know what I can be like.”

“…I do.”

“And you know how much I hate it.”

Pierre stayed quiet for a while, thinking. “I would never force you to do anything you didn’t want to do. But I would like to see the northernmost point of the world before I die. Before the men of the continents come and take it for themselves. To know that there is no place on Earth that you and I cannot reach together.”

Nemo closed his eyes, resting in Pierre’s presence. Eventually he felt the professor kissing his neck and along his jaw, relaxing him further.

He wanted to give Pierre the world. To refuse him anything felt like an admission of defeat, almost like he denied the fact that Pierre was deserving of anything and everything Nemo could provide. And he was. He always was. Still, Nemo’s fears about his own health and sanity were real. During the time after the voyage to the South Pole, his mind had been trapped by the notion that every year he was cursed to live through would be nothing but misery and loneliness. He genuinely thought any joy he could experience had died with his family and his nation, and that his sole purpose was vengeance, followed by a swift death. 

Not anymore, though. Nemo could see for himself now a lifetime of happiness, of seeking out new regions on the seafloor, or discovering unknown creatures of mystery and beauty, of reading late at night and making music that could fill the ocean with sound and feeling. He wanted that life. And everywhere in it, always by his side in all his glorious imaginings that stretched a span of decades, was Pierre. He could not separate this kindly French naturalist from his visions of a beautiful future, no matter how hard he tried.

At that moment, when he turned to Pierre to return the kisses he was being given with ones of his own, he decided that Pierre was worth a risk. His ship was safe. He was braver now, stronger. And he had never, never been one to back down from an adventure.

He would, however, pretend to argue against it for the next few weeks.

***

And now the exact thing he’d feared was happening again. He’d put himself and his friends in danger and his only method of preventing it was to hope they could all keep running until they reached the ship.

They couldn’t. After around fifteen minutes of pacing, the men slowed to a walk, gasping for breath. Nemo turned on them. “I didn’t tell you to stop.”

“Captain?” Jukka gasped. “Can’t we – can’t we take our chances with the storm?”

Nemo looked out at the rising cloud, apprehension swelling in his chest. The rest of them turned to face it, too. “We’ll never outrun that,” René said softly, through heavy breaths. “We’re going to get caught, and then we’ll die.”

“I am not letting you die. _Any_ of you,” Nemo said sharply, giving them all a fierce stare. They straightened up at once at the look in his eyes. Here was a man who would drag them all back to the ship himself if he had to, one by one. They knew it.

“Captain,” Pierre cut in. “Wouldn’t it be prudent to at least take a short rest to walk a while and then resume running? We won’t tire ourselves out that way,” they hadn’t stopped moving during this exchange, heading forward at a slow, steady pace, still in formation – but Pierre’s legs felt heavy as lead and the rest of the men, except for Nemo, were also showing signs of wearing out. In truth, he didn’t know how much longer he could run for, and he doubted any of them could.

“I don’t want to get caught in that,” Nemo replied.

“Nor do I,” Pierre said, and Conseil and Jukka murmured agreement. “But if we do, we do. There’s no real help for it.”

Nemo’s face tightened and he narrowed his eyes but said nothing more for a while. At last he gave his next command. “We stay at a walking pace for a few minutes more, but when I give the signal to run, we run. Is that understood?”

“Aye, Captain,” they chorused. Seeing as there would be no other reprieve, they had to be content with this brief moment of rest. Nemo was as weary as the rest of them but hid it easily, as he was used to doing in front of his men. He’d been long schooled in the art of keeping up the appearance of unshakeable endurance. He found that it gave everyone else some sense of security and safety at times when they needed it most. If their captain was all right, so would they be. They kept on.

It took ages. Every minute they ran, they wanted to stop running, but every minute they continued forward slowly, they wanted to move faster. Anything to be away from this death trap, this icy landscape that housed their impending doom.

The storm was fully upon them now. They gripped each other tightly, Nemo holding on to Jukka, who in turn held René, and then Conseil, and finally Pierre at the back of the line. Nemo was both frantic and relieved that he could not see Pierre. To suffer from cold and fatigue was bad enough, but to watch his lover go through the same would have been intolerable.

The only thing to do was the keep their eyes forward, try their best to breathe though the wind seemed to suck the air from their lungs, and do their best to see through the snow falling faster and faster, dropping their visibility with every passing moment.

A long while later, just as Pierre was starting to believe they would never come to safety in time, Jukka gave the call. “There she is!”

There had hardly ever been a more welcome sight. The electric glow of the _Nautilus,_ far out along the stretch of the water, which by now was hardly visible with the fast-falling snow and driving winds. The men raced towards the ship, hardly caring for the cold now that there was the prospect of warmth and rest so close within their reach.

Nemo was the first to reach her, helping René to get his footing as he climbed aboard, then Conseil, then Jukka. He held out his hand to Pierre last, and Pierre briefly wanted to tell him to get aboard first, that he’d be all right a minute more, but the captain’s eyes were steady as Pierre grasped the ladder with one numb hand and began ascent.

One by one the men slipped below, and the instant they were all down Pierre drew back his scarf from his face, taking in gulps of warm air and feeling the heat spreading over his frozen face and hands. Nemo came down a moment later, but did not stop for an instant to recollect himself. Instead, he went immediately to seek Dougal and Petrakis and make sure everyone was safely back.

He didn’t have to wait long. Dougal met him in the passageway, his face serious. “My men are all accounted for, Captain,” he said. “We all got back just a few minutes before you did. But the storm’s well underway, and Petrakis and his men still haven’t come home.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With four men lost in an arctic blizzard, the rest of the crew are left to wait out the storm before they can search for their friends.

Nemo’s face was grim and taut as he pulled his gloves off and quickly scanned the gathered men. They were all back inside the ship’s interior, protected from the weather. All, that was, except for the one party that had never returned. “Well?” he asked. “Did any of you see Petrakis’s party? Any signs of their signal?”

“None, sir,” Dougal replied. “We headed back as soon as we spotted the storm. We kept a close watch out for them, and for you. No sign of them,” his voice was quiet, choked with fear. “Good God, we can’t just – is there any way we can go out and find them?”

“We’ll have to, yes. Perhaps they’ll return shortly, and none the worse for wear, but unless that happens, we will plan a search party,” Nemo said decisively.

“Not – until the storm breaks, surely?” Pierre asked. The men turned to him, and he felt a touch of anxiety under the weight of their stares. He didn’t want them to think he was being callous, or a coward – the idea that all four men could freeze to death made him feel sick – but he also didn’t want any more men going out in a polar blizzard, perhaps being carried away or buried. It had been getting bad enough when Pierre and his party boarded; to go out now would be all the worse.

Dougal’s story of losing six men at once nagged at the back of his mind. He continued; “I want them safe with us as much as anyone, but out there – I’d rather not send men out into such danger. Not yet.”

As if in reply, the wind picked up and began to screech around the ship’s smooth hull, rattling her from the inside out. Nemo’s eyes betrayed a look of such horror that Pierre grasped his hand, squeezing tight to ground him and make sure he knew where he was and that he was safe. “Tonight…” Nemo murmured. “No. Not until the storm breaks. Pierre is right; it is too risky to send men out now. I won’t have any more of my crew in unnecessary danger.”

Elijah nodded, and René and Jukka looked faintly relieved, but Dougal narrowed his eyes and said nothing.

“Then it is decided,” Nemo said. His voice was firm and commanding, the voice of a leader. However, Pierre was still clutching his hand, and he could feel that the captain was shaking with unspoken dread and nervous energy. Nemo’s hand was locked so tightly around Pierre’s that it hurt, but the professor simply accepted this without a word.

No one knew quite what to do with themselves after that. Nemo gave orders that the ship was to remain where she was, with all her lights on, so that Petrakis and his men could find her if necessary. “Should we send up the flares?” Elijah asked.

“Not a bad idea,” Nemo said. The _Nautilus_ only carried flares for land-based expeditions which were far from any people who might see, and were specifically for letting the crew locate the ship. They were seldom used, but in the rare times they became needed, they were a great asset. “Send them up every ten minutes until we run low, and then, every fifteen or so. Use your best judgement.”

Everyone got back to work, and the men who had gone out into the storm retired to rest and warm up. Pierre caught Dougal’s hand as he went by. “It’ll be fine,” he said. “We’ll set it right; you’ll see.” Dougal tried to give Pierre one of his easy smiles in return, but Pierre could tell that his heart was with Petrakis. He left quickly after that.

Nemo turned to look Pierre over. His face was tense, drawn with worry. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice losing its commanding resonance and instead taking on the soft quality he always used with Pierre.

Pierre nodded, hiding his fatigue and apprehension about Petrakis’s party. “Are you?”

“Yes,” Nemo hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, but didn’t. He simply turned and began heading to their shared living quarters. Pierre followed close, and he didn’t say anything either. There didn’t seem to be much to say. Four men were lost, unable to be searched for without terrible danger, and the storm outside howled a bleak reminder of their fate.

Alone now in the private space they shared, Pierre sighed heavily and began to undress from his outer attire, throwing them onto the bed without worry about folding or putting them away neatly. He sat back, stretching his aching legs and back and willing himself to warm up swiftly. His hands had already begun to tingle as the heat flooded back into them. In the next room, Nemo was doing the same. Pierre approached their adjoining door and leaned against the jamb. “Are you sure you’re all right?” 

Nemo gave him a somber look and headed out into the salon, and Pierre followed. A moment later he came out into the public part of the ship to find Nemo standing in front of the open portal windows, staring out at the storm, his eyes cold.

Pierre’s heartbeat quickened as he approached his captain and studied his face. Nemo was very still; but not still in that calm and dignified way he had of putting the crew at ease just by his relaxed presence. No; this was the rigid; stony stillness that he took on when he was enraged, worried, or disturbed. “Sweetheart?” Pierre said gently.

Nemo started, and looked down, his eyes turning from chips of ice to their natural depth and register. “Pierre,” he said. “Yes, I’m fine. I just…” he broke off, sighing. “I just wish I could go out there.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that, my dear,” Pierre said. “I stand by what I said before about the danger. But I know that I can’t stop you if you truly choose to do it.”

Nemo’s hands tightened into fists, and then relaxed slightly, but his gaze as he stared out at the blizzard that was killing his friends was fierce and cold. “No,” he said bitterly. “Not with visibility so low, and the temperature inhospitable. I know there would be no chance of my return. But the instant the storm breaks, I will go out there.”

“So you won’t be going to bed?” Pierre asked. The outward journey and the return had taken much longer than they’d expected, and now it was nearly eight o’clock.

Nemo regarded him. “No.”

Pierre nodded. “Very well. I’ll stay up with you.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I’m going to. You don’t need to be standing here worrying yourself to death all night,” Pierre, in truth, was worried too; but his was a helpless worry, a nagging sense that there was nothing that could be done but even so, he was going to envision the worst. He lacked Nemo’s ferocious protective instinct, though. Pierre knew that the captain would have torn the storm to shreds and carried all four of his friends back to safety if he could, but he couldn’t. And that, for Nemo, was worse than anything. Nemo could withstand many things, but he could not take the feeling of being helpless against an enemy he couldn’t fight.

They moved to a couch in front of the window, where Pierre reclined but Nemo sat stiffly, still watching the storm howling outside. He was very quiet. “They’ll be all right,” Pierre told him. “Petrakis is a smart man. He’ll likely have found some shelter, or perhaps he dug a burrow in the snow. They’ll be fine there, out of the wind, sharing body heat, and able to drink water from the snow. They could survive for weeks.”

Nemo’s jaw was set tight, but he nodded stiffly, not moving his eyes from the window. Pierre wished he could relax him. He tried shifting closer, so that if the two of them needed to be bundles of nerves they could at least be bundles of nerves in each other’s arms. He wanted to kiss and caress the man he loved, to take his mind off things, but Nemo didn’t react and barely seemed to notice him.

“Dougal told me about the illness that struck the crew when he first came aboard. You lost six men,” Pierre said quietly. “So the crew has been through this before – terrible losses – and survived.”

Nemo turned towards Pierre finally. “He told you about that, did he? Yes, we – we lost many people,” he took a deep breath. “I promised myself and my men that I would never let anything like that happen again. When I left the continents for good, I did so because I thought the sea was the safest place. I thought I could truly protect my friends out here. It was my ambition never to have to watch another of them die,” his voice broke and he quickly looked away. Pierre touched his arm.

“You’ve done the best you can.”

“And I’m sure my men are so grateful for the good I’ve done them,” Nemo replied in a voice like acid. “I’m sure, when I promised them a life of wonder and freedom. And instead I’ve given them this.”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Pierre replied, resting his head on Nemo’s shoulder. “I don’t believe any place on Earth is truly safe from all harm – accidents, illnesses can strike anywhere. The _Nautilus_ is remarkable for what she is – better kept and defended than most ships, and with few dangers that could strike her. But few does not mean none. In any case, the men aren’t dead yet. We may still find them.”

Nemo just sighed. He leaned against Pierre, comforted somewhat by his presence and his gentle optimism. “We may. By all the gods, I hope we do.”

Pierre was silent for a moment, wondering if he should say what was on his mind. He decided to risk it. “Forgive me,” he began. “But I have to ask – how many men have died aboard the ship? Surely these sorts of things are not… common?”

To Pierre’s relief, Nemo did not respond in anger, only with a long silence, deep in thought. “Let me see… two men were lost when we boarded a Spanish vessel in hopes of making allies. That was very early on; we had no idea that crew would turn on us. Three men have drowned or gotten in accidents diving, two have been injured by damage to the ship, three from encounters with animals, seven from illness, one from suicide, and now… four, possibly, from exposure. Twenty two in total,” he sat very still, seeming almost shocked by the amount. “That… is more than the number of men I started out with, when I left the continents for good.”

“So it is common,” Pierre said quietly. 

Nemo nodded, his face absolutely still, but his eyes betrayed the pain he was in at remembering his losses. Pierre wished he hadn’t brought it up. He was glad he knew, and he ought to have realized after his initial voyage on the _Nautilus_ that the ship was not as much a safe haven as Nemo often pretended. Realized that their safety had been learned over time through many accidents.

“I am sorry,” Pierre said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Do you think you’re safe here?” Nemo said, half to himself. “Do you think… do you think nothing can hurt you?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart. Truly. I’m not going anywhere. And you have enough to worry about without thinking about things like that.”

Nemo covered his face with his hands, and Pierre could hear from the shuddering of his breath that he was struggling not to cry. In his own sorrow, Pierre put his arms around Nemo’s waist, feeling the tension that was twisting his body. Slowly, he began to rub Nemo’s back, whispering to him gently until Nemo relaxed and slumped against his professor, eyes closed.

As he felt Nemo come to rest beside him, Pierre dared to reach up and take Nemo’s face in his hands, kissing him lightly as he ran his hands down his face and shoulders. He half expected to be brushed off; but he was not. Instead, Nemo’s breathing slowed and became even as he let himself be touched and petted by the man he loved best in the world.

They passed their time that way until dinner, and then they resumed their vigil.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While a search party goes to seek the missing crew members, Aronnax and Conseil see a very welcoming sight.

Around two in the morning, the storm began to subside. Nemo looked down at Pierre, who had fallen asleep beside him on the couch and was snoring softly. A part of him wished to wake him, to be again reassured by his calm rationality, but he decided against it. If Pierre awoke, he might want to go out searching, and Nemo could not bring him into potential danger right now. As a colleague and crewmate, Nemo respected Pierre immeasurably and would have been gratified to have him by his side. But as a lover, the thought of losing him was too much to bear. Pierre needed to stay on the ship.

He listened to the wind abate and to the sound of Pierre’s breathing. Outside it would be bitter cold, he knew. He was ready for that. He just couldn’t imagine what the men were going through out there, spending half the night in an Artic storm, unable to find their way home.

Well. It ended now. Nemo kissed Pierre’s forehead, watching him for just a moment longer, and got up. He covered Pierre and made sure he was comfortable before leaving the room.

When Pierre awoke hours later, he half-expected to be in his own bed, snuggled in Nemo’s arms, but he quickly came to and remembered where he was, and what had happened last night. The air outside the portal window was clear and the storm had stopped its howling. All was well, it seemed.

Nemo, however, was not there. Pierre didn’t really expect him to be. In a hurry he got up, went to his room to change his clothes, and was about to head out to help the crew when Nemo suddenly made his appearance, bursting into his own quarters through the door.

Pierre stared at him through the open door adjoining their rooms. “Nemo? You’re back already?”

Nemo was breathing heavily, as if he’d been running hard. “Yes. We’ve been out since two o clock this morning. We – we found Markus and Rajeev just now, and came back with them. They’re alive.” Nemo was pale, and looked exhausted, but his eyes were bright. “They need your aid. We took them to their quarters; you ought to go to them.”

Pierre nodded, acknowledging this. “All right, I will. But you need to warm up, too,” Pierre realized that if he’d really gone out when he said, then he was outside for five hours. This was a lengthy amount of time in such cold weather, especially as he hadn’t slept.

“I’m going back out shortly,” Nemo replied. “Petrakis and Thomas still need to be found, and I’m not going to leave them out there without aid. I’ll be all right.”

“Let someone else lead the search,” Pierre took Nemo’s hands in his own, rubbing them to warm them. “You ought to get a bit of sleep. I’ll come check on you later. Rest now, all right, my love?” With that he gave the captain a kiss on the nose and went out to see to Markus and Rajeev.

***

They were well enough. Mild to moderate hypothermia, but nothing too serious, considering the conditions they’d been out in. As Pierre treated them, Ishaan, the first officer of the _Nautilus_, remained in the room, asking questions. Pierre decided to stay in case the interrogation got a bit too demanding. If there was one thing Ishaan lacked, it was, unfortunately, tactfulness. Pierre also wanted to hear what had gone on out there.

“There isn’t much to tell,” Markus said. Rajeev had taken the worse of the chill and was mostly staying silent, conserving strength. “When the storm hit, we realized we weren’t going to make it all the way back to the ship so Petrakis ordered us to start piling up snow to build a den to hole up in. We waited that storm out, and then when it blew over, Petrakis decided it would be wise for Rajeev and me to stay since we were awfully cold at that point.”

“So you split up?” Ishaan asked.

“Petrakis’s orders, but yes. We did. And it made sense, too,” Markus replied. “He said he and Thomas would head in search of the _Nautilus_ to bring help back to us. We don’t know if they ever found it.”

“They didn’t,” Ishaan said.

“Well… no, I guess they didn’t.”

“You found us before they made it back. That’s all we know,” Rajeev said. “The last we saw them, they were going to look for the ship.”

“And you have no idea what direction they were headed?”

“Dammit, Ishaan, we’re at the Pole! They headed south! They could only head south!” Markus snapped. This was technically true, as the ship was stationed above the Arctic Circle, but not _at_ the Pole, not yet. “And anyway, everything looks the same up here. It’s just an expanse of ice, no landmarks. How could we tell which way they were going?”

Ishaan sighed, exasperated. “Then this is entirely unhelpful. And we still can’t get our men back.”

“Is the captain still aboard?” Pierre asked.

“No,” Ishaan replied. “He went off just a few minutes ago to search for the other two. We won’t see him back for a while yet, so if you need something, you can come to me.”

“Very well,” Pierre said. Ishaan left, and he continued with his examination. “You know,” he said to the two of them. “We didn’t expect to find you, either. But we did. I have hope that Petrakis and Thomas will return to us.”

Markus gave a half-smile, but Rajeev remained serious. “Ishaan believes we ought to have stayed with them. I think perhaps we ought to have done so, as well. To leave them out there, that is unfaithful behavior.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Markus replied. “If we’d done that we’d be frozen out there, and lost with them still. As it is, we’re going to live. And perhaps even with all our digits intact, eh, Professor?”

“I think so,” Pierre said. “You can feel everything I’m doing?” He’d been using a blunted pick to prod their hands and feet, as well as fingers and toes, checking for numbness and frostbite. There were, by some miracle, no outward signs of any, but Pierre still wanted to be certain.

“I can,” Rajeev said, and Markus confirmed the same.

“Then I’ll leave you two to warm up. Stay in here, keep an eye on each other’s progress, and send Molnár to come and get me if anything seems amiss. For now, get some sleep. I’ll come back and check on you again in a few hours.”

“Will do, Professor,” Markus replied quietly, snuggling closer to Rajeev. Pierre remembered then that the two of them had been romantically involved for years, since long before he’d come aboard the ship. It was no wonder, then, that they’d chosen to stay with each other. Pierre bowed to them and left the room, fighting a stab of envy. He wished more than anything he could have stayed with the man he loved too, instead of being left aboard while the captain went to face danger.

He went back to his room, where a meal had been left out for him and Nemo, except that Nemo wasn’t here to eat it. The flavor of the food was strange; it was just Atlantic cod, but Thomas was usually there to help prepare it. Ishwar hadn’t been without his assistant in all the time Pierre had been aboard the ship.

Pierre covered his face with his hands. Everything felt strange and muddled up here, and of course, two of the men were still missing. Petrakis. Pierre couldn’t imagine getting on without Petrakis’s quiet guardianship, or Thomas’s sly jokes as he passed Pierre on the way to the kitchens every day.

He decided to leave off eating and go up to the platform. He wasn’t hungry anyway. Perhaps by the time Nemo returned he would be.

As he went up, he was greeted by a familiar and beloved presence. “Conseil!”

“Monsieur,” Conseil replied warmly. “It is a lovely day, is it not? Brisk, with rapid winds.” It was freezing outside as usual and the wind chill made it all the worse. “But Monsieur has not been resting easily?”

“No, my friend, not with our men stranded out in this,” Pierre looked out at the expanse of ice off the platform. “And most certainly not with Nemo gone. I know he’ll return. It would take a thousand storms to bring Nemo to defeat, I’m sure. But… I can’t help but worry for him.”

Conseil murmured quietly in sympathy, and the two of them stood for a moment, looking out at the frozen stretch. “Monsieur has not seen a Greenland shark yet, either.”

“No,” Pierre replied, with a quiet laugh. “Nemo suggested we dive, perhaps when we get closer to the coast of Iceland. He doesn’t think they’ll come to the surface, as they prefer deep water.”

“Then we shall, once we’re out of here,” Conseil replied. Pierre was about to remark that he hoped it would be soon when Conseil suddenly looked up in surprise and craned his neck, trying to get a glimpse of something moving in the distance. “Monsieur? Can it be?”

It took a moment, but Pierre spotted what he was seeing. Several large, streamlined creatures, heading in a school or pod towards the _Nautilus._ At first, Pierre thought they’d been blessed by seeing a school of Greenland sharks, but when they got closer, he could make out that their tails moved up and down in the fashion of cetaceans, rather than side to side.

It was not long after that Pierre could see that they were looking at a pod of beautiful spotted creatures, each sporting a long tusk like a unicorn. “Narwhals! Conseil, have we really been so fortunate?”

“I suppose they are common up here, Monsieur,” Conseil replied casually. He was calm as ever, but his face was alight.

“Ah, look at them, Conseil!” Pierre leaned forward like he could touch them, trying to take in as much about their movements and formation as he could as they passed by. “They are magnificent, aren’t they?”

And they were. And in their magnificence, Pierre was suddenly overcome with the memory of those years ago when he and Conseil had set off to find one narwhal in particular, and instead come across this place. This wonderful, terrible ship that they now called their lifelong home. And in those memories was so much mystery, and excitement, and fear, and ambition… all behind them now. So much had changed since then.

As he watched the narwhals, thinking of the decisions he’d made and how he had brought them to this point, Pierre’s vision blurred and he covered his face again, lowering his head. A moment later he felt Conseil’s arm around him, and he leaned against his friend in silence as he struggled to regain composure.

“What troubles Monsieur?” Conseil asked quietly. “Is he thinking of home?”

“Conseil… yes, I was. And of the museum. And our old house…”

“We could go back,” Conseil replied softly. “I believe Monsieur’s captain has given us permission to leave whenever we wish. But –“

“I don’t want to go back, Conseil,” Pierre replied, straightening up. “It’s just now, with all these troubles, I sometimes miss the peace. But then, there wasn’t really much peace, was there? I’m just harking back on the good times, the quiet evenings, the cafés, the lectures. It wasn’t much quiet when we were sent to the African Congo, now, was it?”

“Well, no,” Conseil said.

“And it would have been so terrible to be bored. Here, that never happens. So no, I would never opt to return permanently. But to visit… perhaps. Perhaps.”

“Then Monsieur should ask his captain! But he will not join us, of course.”

“No,” Pierre agreed. “Nemo will never agree to go ashore. I think he will let us return, to visit, if we are discreet. But he swore that he would never again step foot on inhabited land, and I believe he will not.”

The narwhals were far in the distance now, and the two men watched them go. Pierre felt a sense of renewed hope, and heightened purpose. Whatever happened, he was where he was meant to be, and here he would stay. That said, he wished Nemo would return.

They spent a while longer up there, reminiscing, before going below, at which point Pierre excused himself to check on Markus and Rajeev again. He found the two of them soundly sleeping, no longer shivering and showing no signs of distress or ill health. Content, he decided to go back to his room to wait for Nemo but was instead met with Ishaan, who looked uncharacteristically distressed and angry. “Where were you?” he demanded. “When we need a doctor aboard this ship, I expect to be able to find one. What use are you otherwise?”

“I was on the platform, and then I was attending to Markus and Rajeev. You could have asked Elijah, or Pyotr. They knew where I was.”

“Never mind that. Come with me.”

“What’s happened?”

“They found Petrakis,” Ishaan said. “The search party brought him in just a while ago, and it seems our luck has run out,” he took a deep breath and continued. “He’s dying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I haven't been putting many chapter notes in since I don't think this story needs them, but congrats on making it to the midpoint!
> 
> And also, if you're wondering "did I write this for the express purpose of having a narwhal sighting?" the answer is yes. That and for no other reason.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pierre tries to save the life of Petrakis, and Nemo continues to venture out in search of Thomas, who is still missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO if you're wondering why this was posted almost a month after the last chapter -
> 
> I don't actually have an excuse, sorry. I mean, I do have an excuse in that I was working on a few other fics (which are up!) but I don't have a really good excuse. Actually, I didn't realize it had been a month! I thought it was two weeks, tops, until I saw the publication date of the last chapter. Whoops!
> 
> As for the tone... it WILL get lighter! Don't worry! Just hang in there!

Pierre had hoped Petrakis’s state would be better than Ishaan had described, but he was sadly let down. Petrakis was ice cold to the touch, not shivering at all, pale and unresponsive to almost any stimulus. He was breathing, but rapidly, and his chest rose and fell in shallow gasps. “God help him,” Pierre murmured.

A small crowd was behind him in the officer’s quarters where they’d congregated. Ishaan, Dougal, Nemo, and Jukka. Ishaan stood aside, unusually anxious, and Dougal was openly praying. Jukka seemed to be on the verge of tears. Only Nemo remained impassive, watching Pierre with his arms crossed and his face still. Pierre sensed, though, that the captain harbored his own private fears.

“Will he be all right?” Nemo asked.

“I don’t know yet. Can we turn the temperature up in these quarters? Is that possible? He needs to be warmed up, and quickly.”

“We can,” Nemo said, gesturing to Dougal, who went at once to carry it out.

“Good. And while we’re waiting for the air to heat up in here I’d like to get him into a bath – something warm. Not too hot, but warmer than it is in here right now. Just to get the heat to him quickly,” Pierre said all this decisively and then turned back to Petrakis, trying again to get a reaction from him.

Nemo again issued these orders, and when Jukka and Ishaan had dispersed, came to Pierre’s side, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re doing well,” he said quietly.

Pierre looked up at him, reading the lines of exhaustion and worry on his face. They must have matched Pierre’s own. “So are you,” Pierre replied, taking Nemo’s hand to squeeze it tightly for a moment. “We never would have found the three of them without your guidance. I’ll take it from here, sweetheart.”

Nemo smiled, pulling Pierre into a brief, warm hug and giving him a kiss on the forehead before turning and leaving him to his work.

***

The next several hours were difficult for Pierre. While he’d treated the men of the _Nautilus_ before for minor injuries such as bruises and scrapes, and even set a few twisted joints, he’d not yet had a serious illness or accident. This would be his chance to prove himself as a worthy physician to this crew.

His concern was only made worse by the fact that this was Petrakis, a close friend and leader aboard the ship. His loss, more than others, would affect the other men greatly. But, he told himself, Petrakis was not dead yet, and would not be if he could help it. He was a doctor, after all.

Conseil came to help him shortly thereafter and the two of them managed to get Petrakis into the bath Pierre had decided to run for him. He stirred slightly as the water flowed around him, but he did not become alert or give any sign that he felt anything.

“What does Monsieur think?” Conseil asked in a worried voice.

“Acute hypothermia, of course. I’m not sure there’s much to be done right away,” Pierre had set the water to 28 degrees, but he wasn’t certain of what the proper temperature would be to treat a case this severe. He didn’t want to set it too hot and risk sending Petrakis into shock, but he didn’t want the water too cool, either, as cool water could make him even colder and would likely kill him. “We could get him to drink warm liquids, if he was conscious. I don’t know. This sort of thing isn’t something I’ve ever treated before.”

“Should we just leave him to see how he reacts soon?”

“No. Firstly, I don’t want him slipping below the water in this state and drowning. Secondly… we need to stay here and check his vital signs, and attempt to revive him as best we can.” Petrakis’s pulse was weak and his skin remained cold and pale. Pierre couldn’t help but think he looked like a corpse already.

Twenty minutes went by with no improvement when Dougal entered the room. “The old sinner’s… he’s taken a group and gone back out. He wanted you to know. He’s gonna look to bring Thomas in.” His eyes fell on Petrakis. “God… is he doing any better?”

“No,” Pierre said honestly. “He’s alive, though. He’s still breathing. Unfortunately we don’t have a lot of options here aside from warming him up slowly and carefully.”

Dougal sighed, shutting his eyes. “Well, do the best you can, Professor. But please, try and help him.”

“I will,” Pierre promised, slightly annoyed that he was being treated as though he wasn’t doing everything he knew how. Truly, he didn’t know how much to risk in this case. Too much action might be devastating, but not enough…

They waited a few hours, with little change, although Petrakis’s temperature was slowly rising. When they were sufficiently convinced the officer’s quarters would be warm enough, brought Petrakis back there. “It’s better, anyhow, for him to be dry,” Pierre told Conseil. “I’d have done that from the start except that the air took longer to heat up than the water did.”

There was not much improvement. Petrakis’s pulse was stronger, his breathing somewhat more even, but he had not regained consciousness, and was still showing no signs of reaction to stimuli. Sufficiently covered and wrapped in the warm outdoor clothes of his friends and brothers aboard the _Nautilus_, though, Pierre began to hope he’d get better much more quickly.

Not long after, when it was around 4:30 PM, Nemo came into the room. Pierre looked up; brightening at the appearance of the man he loved. “Nemo. Did you find Thomas?”

Nemo shook his head, looking almost defeated. Pierre got up and put his arms around him, feeling the captain rest against him. “All right,” he said quietly. In truth, he didn’t think Thomas was likely to be alive at this point, but it was too much to think about right now. “You’ve done all you could. I want you to stay here and rest now. You’ve been out there far too much these past few days, and you haven’t gotten nearly enough sleep.” Pierre was well aware that he hadn’t, either, but he’d slept a little at least. Nemo didn’t appear to have gotten any at all.

“I can’t. I only came back to relieve the men of their posts and I’m going back out with a second party.”

“No,” Pierre said. “Send Ishaan or Dougal to lead if you absolutely must, but you’re staying on the ship. That is an order, Captain, from your ship’s medical doctor. You need a break from all this.”

Nemo narrowed his eyes at Pierre, regarding him for a long moment. At last he took the professor’s hand in his own, brought it briefly to his lips, and turned to go to his usual station.

“He is going to go back out there,” Conseil said.

“I hope he’s not that stupid,” Pierre replied grimly, but he suspected Conseil was right. Nemo, for all his intelligence, harbored almost none when it came to the prospect of keeping himself safe. His crew meant more to him than that. In fact, many things meant more to him than that.

***

Two dreary hours passed in much the same way. Conseil came up with the idea of heating sea stones in the galley and wrapping them in bands of cloth, using them as portable heaters. They placed these under the covers of Petrakis’s bed, close but not so close, Pierre hoped, as to burn him or send him into shock.

His temperature when he’d been brought in had been 21 degrees exactly. Now it was 30.6. That was…better, but still not anywhere close to where Pierre wanted it. He wasn’t waking up, and Pierre could not understand why. He should have been roused by now.

“Come on, sir,” he said quietly. “We need you here. Who’s going to keep Ishaan off all our backs? And who’s going to captain us when we take the dinghy out? A little snow and ice… that can’t be the death of you.” There was no response.

“Monsieur?”

“Yes, Conseil?”

“This is not going well.”

“We just need to be patient, Conseil. He’ll wake up.”

He didn’t. Half an hour later, when Pierre was checking his pulse rate, he felt the soft slip as Petrakis went from living to dead. “Petrakis!” he said, his voice rising in panic, and Conseil started up beside him, having dozed off. “God, no. Petrakis?”

“Is he dead? Did he die?”

Pierre took Petrakis by the shoulders and gave him a shake, trying to start him breathing again. It didn’t work. He remained still, and cold, and now he would stay cold forever. The two men stared in stunned silence, trying to process that they’d just lost their friend in spite of their efforts. “Conseil,” Pierre said, trying to keep his voice firm. “He’s dead. Check the time, please.”

“It is 7:06 PM exactly. Monsieur?” Conseil’s eyes were round behind his glasses, and he remained calm as ever, though it was clear he was shaken too. “You did what you could.”

“I know. But I lost him. And now we have to – “ Pierre collected his swirling thoughts, steadying himself. “We have to mark down his time and cause of death.”

“7:06 PM, acute hypothermia.”

“And alert the crew of his passing… and plan his burial.” _And appoint a new officer, and get everyone out of here safely, and then… what? _Pierre didn’t know. He didn’t even know if he could do the first thing. But Conseil, ever-faithful, had already gotten his log book and made the notation.

“We ought to wait for the captain’s return before we start to do anything else.” Conseil said gently. “If Monsieur permits. I’ll go tell Dougal and Elijah. They’ll be able to pass on the news to the rest.”

“Dougal? Oh, God…”

“I know,” Conseil squeezed Pierre’s hand tightly for an instant and then left the room. Pierre, alone now with Petrakis, covered his friend’s head with the sheets and then sat on the bed beside him, staring into space.

He had failed this crew, failed Petrakis, and there was nothing he could do about it. He’d been no better than an apprentice, an intern on his first set of rounds, and he knew it. And now a man was dead. He’d have to face Dougal, and even worse, he’d have to face Nemo. He had no idea if his captain was still aboard or if, as Conseil suggested, he’d gone off. Probably the latter, not that it mattered. Pierre had little doubt that Nemo would return, the man was almost superhuman and it would take a lot more than ice to kill him.

Petrakis wasn’t so lucky.

Pierre tried desperately not to think of Petrakis’s gentle half-smile or how he had a special fondness for Syngnathidae and would watch with bemused cheer when a live specimen was caught in one of the holding tanks for study.

No. He shook those memories away. He could go down them later, perhaps, when there was time to grieve, but not now. He needed to account for Nemo and – make sure the rest of the men were all safe. That was the most important.

From outside, Pierre could hear one of the men wailing in sorrow and anguish. Dougal. The sound only increased his guilt and horror, and he got up quickly to leave the room, his vision blurring as he headed back towards the salon. He would leave Dougal to say goodbye to his best friend on his own terms.

Nemo wasn’t in the salon, which was terrible, because Pierre had wanted nothing more than to cry in his arms for a good long while. Instead there was only a note saying he’d gone again. Except this time he hadn’t taken a party. He’d only taken one man. Ishaan.

_Ishaan?_ Whether it was due to grief or exhaustion or pure spite, Pierre suddenly felt overcome with rage towards the first mate. Nemo, he expected this from. Nemo was reckless, prone to endanger himself out of bravery and stupidity – but Ishaan knew better. Was that not his entire goal aboard the ship? To be a paragon of common sense for the rest of them? And now he’d gone out, seemingly without an argument, and let Nemo do the same.

But then, Pierre considered, Nemo could be very persuasive and stubborn when he meant to do a thing, even a foolish thing. Maybe Ishaan _had_ argued against it and been overruled.

Pierre sighed. It didn’t matter much what the cause was, for the two of them to go out. It was cold outside the ship, and the winds were picking up. If there was another storm, and they got caught in it…

If that happened, then there was only a slim chance that either of them would ever return. Which would make Petrakis – no, Dougal, Dougal would become the captain. And somehow, Pierre didn’t think he was quite cut out for that. Certainly, he did not have Nemo’s sense of command.

Pierre tried to think of what to do. He could assemble a party and lead them – yes, he could certainly do that. Go off in search of Nemo and Ishaan. He might find the two of them, even if it was too late for them to be saved. Maybe…

Or maybe not. Or maybe he should just stay on the ship, where Nemo would expect him to be. They’d lost a man already, permanently. One more was likely never to be found. And now the ship and crew were without their captain, alone, abandoned in an icy plain which would not be easy to escape.

Too many variables, too many risks, and Pierre didn’t know what to do. He wanted Nemo here beside him so he could bask in that calm and indefatigable presence. Nemo would hold Pierre in his arms and tell him everything would be all right, if he was here. But he was not here. He was gone, and Pierre’s mind spun with the notion that he didn’t know if he’d ever see him alive again.

With those thoughts in mind, Pierre at last began to cry.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nemo and Ishaan go out in search of Thomas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!
> 
> I'm sorry I haven't been updating this but I have chapters 7 and 8 almost entirely worked out now! The trouble was this chapter; I wasn't sure whether to break 7 and 8 in two or keep everything under one chapter. I ended up splitting them; so this chapter is about Nemo and Ishaan's adventure in the frozen north, and chapter 8 will finally have Nemo and Pierre together again, as I'm sure everyone is looking forward to!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“Do you have any notion of where he might be?” Ishaan called over the gusting winds. “Any at all?”

“If I did, would I have called you out here? Chances are he won’t be too far away from where Petrakis was, so if we head for the coordinates where we found him, we’ll find Thomas,” Nemo said decidedly. “And then we can leave this place once and for all.” He wasn’t keen on leaving without making it to the Pole itself, as had been their plan, but people were lost and hurt. If they ever made it, it would only be after everyone had been accounted for and recovered. Then, he told himself. Then he would forge the way to the Pole; claim both the North and the South for the _Nautilus _and the few outcasts who resided upon it.

“Why did you bring us up here in the first place? I know we’ve traveled above the Arctic Circle in the past, to look at the stars, to document the creatures found at these latitudes, but to leave the ship?”

Nemo didn’t reply. The truth was, Pierre had asked, and he had obliged. He did not regret this. If Pierre had asked him to shift the very rotation of the Earth, Nemo would have done his best to do it, if only it would make Pierre happy. There was, in honesty, very little he would not allow the professor. But if Ishaan knew this, he would only remark on the dangers of letting the professor hold Nemo’s heart too close.

Nemo had heard it all before from Ishaan. His first mate did not trust Pierre completely, claiming that Pierre was not true to the Nautilus. He still had worldly ties, Ishaan said, and was furthermore a man of rather weak constitution. A man who would, one day, perhaps grow restless aboard the _Nautilus_ as he’d grown restless with his museum, and who would decide to leave, breaking Nemo’s heart in the process. Nemo knew what Ishaan’s opinions were, and no longer paid them much thought, but he wasn’t looking for an argument now. “I simply thought it would be something worthwhile. We’ve made it to the South Pole unscathed; I imagined we could make it to the North the same way.”

“Clearly, we cannot,” Ishaan replied. “And I suppose I don’t need to remind you of the trouble we had coming out of the South Pole?”

“No,” Nemo replied grimly. “You don’t,” he remembered it well. The thought still haunted him sometimes. None of the men had died, but watching them come within inches was bad enough. The wind blew hard in their faces, stinging their eyes and making breathing difficult. “We won’t be able to stay out here for too long, but I want to find Thomas, and rapidly, before anything else happens,” he said above the howling of the gale.

Nemo had never really felt chilled as long as he’d been aboard the _Nautilus_. His overcoat of sealskin and byssus clothing were remarkably warm and practical for keeping out the gale, but he’d been out so much the past few days that the cold was starting to get to him. Or perhaps the temperature was dropping?

It was hard to say, and if he was feeling the effects of the weather after less than an hour being out, then Thomas would be near frozen. That was bad.

“Do you suppose he’s still alive?” Nemo asked.

“You left your professor to care for him. If the man’s as good as you say, then perhaps.”

“I meant Thomas.”

“In all honesty, no, I don’t. Not after a whole night and most of a day in a winter storm, with the winds not letting up. I don’t think we’re going to see Thomas again, not ever.”

“Then why did you come out?” Nemo asked in confusion.

“Because that is what we do aboard this ship. We risk our lives for each other. And furthermore, because you ordered me to, and I cannot in good faith ignore the commands of my captain.”

They trudged on. The world was blank with snow, and dark, and Nemo could hardly see. He’d begun to shiver violently, unable to keep out the cold any longer, his body simply reacting now to the steady dropping in temperature. He considered that this was probably a fool’s errand, searching across a frozen landscape with no landmarks or trails to follow, seeking a dead man. But on the other hand, if he went back to the ship, Thomas would die for certain, and he would die knowing that his captain had abandoned him.

Nemo could never live with that. Ishaan was right about what they did aboard the ship; they risked their lives for each other.

A long time later, when they reached the place where Nemo thought Petrakis had been recovered, he cupped his hands to his mouth and called for Thomas, first in the language of the _Nautilus_, and then in English, Thomas’s mother tongue. If Thomas was nearby, he would hear.

But suppose he was too weak to call out? Suppose he had no way to signal? What if he was within earshot but unconscious, half-hidden by the snow and unaware of his friends, unable to make his presence known?

Desolate, Nemo craned his neck to look in all directions, but visibility was so low. They had their lanterns, of course, and those devices could light a wide area of terrain underwater, but up here the snow made it so that the light did not reach more than a few meters, and there were hundreds and hundreds of meters to cover. And it was so _cold_.

Beside Nemo, Ishaan was shivering now, too, but he didn’t say anything about his discomfort. Ishaan was a rugged man, who would die before he issued a complaint. Nemo realized with mounting horror that this was futile. If he stayed out here much longer he’d watch Ishaan die too, lose Thomas in the meantime, and gain nothing.

Hopeless. And here he was, supposed to be the great Captain Nemo, who drew his men from the clutches of death with only moments to spare; who at the very last second enacted some brilliant plan to save everyone and escape, shaken, but all alive, all well.

And yet he did not feel at that moment like the insurmountably strong and powerful captain they all knew him to be. Instead he felt rather like he had during the rebellion; like a man who was only guessing at what he was doing, guessing and failing, failing _everyone_, his men, his family, his nation, and letting them all crumble and perish because he’d led them into a place he thought he could lead them out of… and misjudged his own strength.

He called again for Thomas and again received no answer. Ishaan watched him, impassive, his face yielding nothing. Nemo knew that Ishaan would follow him to the brink of death if he asked him to, but he didn’t want to lead another man to his demise.

He should have come alone.

“What should we do?” Nemo asked, quietly.

“What else can we do? Thomas can’t hear us, and we can’t possibly stay out in this weather long enough to find him. If we die, it’s not as if that increases his chances of survival.”

“So you want to leave him out here even longer.”

“Captain. Do you honestly think he’s still alive?”

Nemo squared his shoulders, staring out at the frozen lands with a sense of defeated fury. He knew Ishaan was right, and yet he could hardly bear the thought of sailing off, leaving Thomas as a frozen shell in enemy lands, not ever able to rest in the peaceful coral cemetery with the family who had taken him in and loved him.

For one horrid moment Nemo felt so tired and beaten that he just wanted to sink down into the snow and let it cover him and all his failures. Let Ishaan take over command, perhaps he would be able to keep them all safer, give them a better life than Nemo had. But he knew in his heart that this was impossible. They had to go back. Later they could come out again, search for Thomas’s body and bring him home to bury. Surely, by that point, they wouldn’t find anything else. But if the cold got to them further, they’d be lost.

“Let’s go,” Nemo said dully.

He kept his head down as they made the long journey back to the ship. He didn’t dare look at Ishaan, and his mind was spinning with questions and queries about what else he could have possibly done, what else there was to do. What was he missing? He didn’t truly believe that Thomas’s case had been hopeless, and yet he’d been unable to save him.

They walked further on, the snow blurring their path and making it near impossible to navigate. Nemo’s throat and lungs felt cramped and sore from the cold air, but even pulling his scarf over his face didn’t do much for it. At the very least, the cold seemed to have abated a little. He no longer felt much of a chill.

Soon after, Ishaan grabbed his arm. “Captain,” he said. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“Towards the ship.”

“Then why are you leading us away from the shoreline?”

Nemo looked up, squinting into the distance. At some point, he’d gotten turned around, and had begun walking in the other direction. He took a moment to get his bearings. “I’m sorry. Out here it’s… not like the ocean. Disorienting.”

“Are you all right?”

“Tired,” Nemo muttered. “I think we should stop for a rest.”

“No,” Ishaan said sternly. “Absolutely not. This isn’t like the sea. Out here, if we stop to rest, I doubt we’d ever make it home,” he glanced at Nemo, scrutinizing him. “And you _know_ this…”

Nemo did know it. But he felt so numb and weary that he wanted nothing more than to sleep, even if it meant sleeping outside. The cold really wasn’t bothering him much anymore, and he figured he could do it, just for a short time, until he regained his strength. “How much further do you think it is?”

“I don’t know,” Ishaan replied, looking towards the horizon. “At least two kilometers. Maybe three. I don’t see the beacon light.”

Nemo felt faint, but said nothing more about it. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

They kept on heading for the shoreline. Nemo became dizzier with every step, and by the time they saw the glow of the beacon in the distance, he didn’t think he was going to make the rest of the journey without fainting.

But he would. He had to.

Ishaan had taken the lead, with Nemo managing to keep a steady pace behind, mustering his strength to make the duration of the trek back. They were so close, less than two kilometers, but with the _Nautilus_ in sight, Nemo finally stumbled.

“Ishaan,” he called out. “Listen to me.”

Ishaan turned in surprise and headed back to grasp Nemo’s arm and pull him to his feet. “No, Ishaan, listen. You need to go to the Nautilus and bring help, I won’t be able to walk the rest of the way,” his voice was steady, but his legs were so shaky that he was hardly able to use them.

“I’m not going to leave you out here. If I do, it’ll be the last we see of you. Come on,” he pulled Nemo up, allowing the captain to lean on him for support. “It’s a short way. You’ve gone further than this, and in worse states.”

Nemo couldn’t deny that. He steeled himself, forcing his legs to take his weight and struggle forward, still leaning heavily on Ishaan.

By the time they’d gone another kilometer, Nemo’s vision had begun to blur and fade in and out, and Ishaan was all but dragging him. “Steady, Captain,” Ishaan said beside him. “It’s not far now.”

And it wasn’t, but Nemo had lost sight of the beacon light. All he could see now was the swirling patterns of the snow, the darkness, the patches of odd and eerie light from the lanterns, all coming together in a vague and confusing patchwork of nauseous sensation and muffled sound. The silence. It was so silent out here, it was scary. His head kept dropping as he slipped into semiconsciousness and Ishaan would give him a sharp nudge back into wakefulness.

Nemo was hardly aware when they reached the _Nautilus_ and Ishaan shrugged out from under him. He collapsed into the snow, but was only vaguely bothered by this; the cool of the frozen ground was somewhat relaxing, as his body had started to feel feverish.

Ishaan lifted him into a sitting position. “Stay there and sit up, I’m getting someone to carry you onto the ship. Don’t fall asleep. Do you understand?”

Nemo struggled to find the words to say that he did.

“Do you?” Ishaan asked sharply.

Nemo nodded, and Ishaan left. Alone now, Nemo craned his head back to look at the gray and ominous sky. The world seemed to spin around him, almost tormenting him with its unforgiving nature, its blank and untouchable cruelty. This, he thought, was the price of returning to the surface world. He’d abandoned it, scorned it, and it was treating him in turn like an invading enemy. It had killed his friend, and it would kill him if it so desired.

With that last thought, Nemo’s vision faded to black.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nemo returns to the Nautilus, suffering from exposure, and Pierre makes a difficult decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY IT ARRIVES.
> 
> I know, it's been... what, two months since my last update, but this was a very very VERY hard chapter to write, for whatever reason! Your guess is as good as mine as to why that is, really.
> 
> But anyway! They aren't out of the woods yet, this merry crew, but they're doing better. Their captain is back and things are looking up for them. Is it fair to say they've rounded the corner...?
> 
> Well, I hope so. But you'll see soon enough!

Pierre was subdued, flipping through a book without looking at the pages or taking any of it in. Conseil was still with him. He hadn’t left Pierre’s side since Petrakis’s death, and Pierre was grateful for the company. The longer the hours without Nemo stretched on, the more fearful Pierre became. If they weren’t back by now, then surely… surely they were lost out on the ice, trapped, or hurt, unable to find their way? No. _No._

Pierre’s breathing sharpened, and he stood abruptly up. “We need to go out,” he told Conseil. “They might be lost, and if they are, heaven help them, we have to send a party to go and bring them back.” He opened the door, ready to gather a group and nearly ran into Ishaan.

For a moment the two men stared at each other in surprise. Ishaan was the first to speak. “Professor. I see you’re in a hurry? Checking on your patient?”

“No, I was about to send out a search party to look for you! I don’t see why you went out in the first place.” In his heart, Pierre knew Ishaan was not to blame for this, but it was easier to turn on him than it was place the blame on Nemo. “It’s dangerous out there.”

“No doubt, but I did it under the Captain’s orders, which is what I came to you about. You’re needed to see to him – immediately,” Ishaan’s face grew serious. “He’s not well at all.”

Pierre’s blood went cold. He didn’t need a second opinion. He could check Ishaan later – if the first officer was well enough to get around the ship, he could wait a few minutes before medical aid. But, Pierre thought, they should really have a second physician on board. Conseil was being trained, but one man couldn’t do everything…

Bolting down the companionway in a near-panic, Pierre stopped dead when he saw Nemo for the first time. The captain was being supported by Elijah and Jukka, and he seemed utterly unresponsive, slumped on Jukka’s shoulder, his eyes open, but vacant.

With his heart in his throat, Pierre rushed to Nemo, taking his face in his hands to feel his icy skin. “Sweetheart?” Pierre asked quietly. Nemo blinked, trying to focus. He was deathly cold, and pale but not shivering, and that frightened Pierre more than anything. This was the state Petrakis had been when he arrived, and he had never recovered.

No. That could not happen to Nemo. “Bring him to Petrakis’s room,” Pierre said tightly, swallowing hard. He knew that the room’s former occupant would have been moved out by now, prepped for burial. “It’s been heated. He’ll be able to warm up there,” with any luck, he thought, but pushed the notion away. Nemo would recover. It was certain. Pierre knew better than to mess around with silly things like baths, this time.

Nemo was hardly able to walk. He stumbled as they led him, and Pierre tried to catch hold of him, to steady him, but Jukka was quicker. He didn’t waste time with support – instead, he picked Nemo up and carried him in his arms like a child. Ordinarily, Pierre was sure Nemo would have protested, but he just jerked slightly and then went limp.

Petrakis’s chamber was indeed very hot inside, and Pierre led the way, with Jukka and Elijah close behind. Jukka laid the captain on the bed, gentle as could be, and Pierre caught his eyes, smiling in thanks. “That’s all we need for now. You may go,” he said to the two of them. “Thank you both. Send Conseil in for me, will you?”

Conseil came in a minute later. Together they got Nemo out of his outdoor gear, which was damp and heavy, not to mention nearly frozen. Once out of it, the captain looked smaller, more fragile. He hadn’t spoken a word to them since he’d come back inside. This worried Pierre more than anything. Nemo was never so quiet, never so listless. He seemed to be struggling to remain conscious, and Pierre gripped his hand, giving him a quick kiss. “You’re doing just fine, love. We’re here now. We’ll take care of you.”

Nemo turned his head, focusing on Pierre’s voice. Pierre and Conseil covered him with the blankets, wrapping him tightly. Still, Nemo didn’t speak. His breathing was shallow, raspy. “Sweetheart?” Pierre asked. “Can you say something, please? Let me know you’re all right.”

Nemo’s throat worked for a moment before he managed to whisper; “I’m fine. Will you stay?”

Pierre’s heart twisted; but he shook his head. “I need to go take care of a few things. Conseil will be with you; he’ll see to it that you’re warm and comfortable. Listen to me; though – I don’t want you to go to sleep yet. I know you’re tired, but you need to stay awake until I tell you otherwise. It’s very important. Do you understand?”

Nemo looked pained and exhausted but he agreed. Pierre gave him a kiss on the forehead. “You stay strong for me, my dear. I’ll be back soon.” 

Nemo’s responses were giving Pierre a shred of hope. He was awake; able to communicate, and safe aboard the _Nautilus_. Besides that, it was entirely possible that he wasn’t suffering just from cold but from fatigue which was worsening his symptoms. He hadn’t slept, as far as Pierre knew, in over forty-eight hours, and he hadn’t eaten or drunk much during that time, either. 

Pierre gave Conseil a few quick instructions and then left. Outside, he paused, by the door, disturbed to the depths of his soul. It seemed that even the great Captain Nemo had his physical limitations – and why not? He was human, after all. Still, it often seemed to Pierre and to the rest of the crew that Nemo could carry on forever, never tiring, never complaining, never feeling the slightest aches or weariness that would come over lesser men. Being faced with the evidence that Nemo was just a man after all, well… Pierre didn’t like it.

None of them did.

***

The next while passed in a fog. Pierre checked on Ishaan, found him stable and unharmed except for a bit of chill, and ordered him to get some sleep. Then he went to check on Markus and Rajeev again. They were well and had returned to their duties. Finally, he got confirmation that Petrakis’s body had been moved into their cold storage area, to be brought south for burial.

“We should bury him as soon as possible,” Pierre told Elijah. “Set a course for our graveyard, moderate speed.”

“That will be a journey of several days, assuming ideal conditions.” Elijah replied. “And have you confirmed these orders with the Captain? With Ishaan?”

“No,” Pierre said. “The Captain is ill, Ishaan is currently resting, and Dougal is with Petrakis. I will not disturb any of them. For the sake and safety of this crew, we need to get away from here. Petrakis deserves an honorable burial, to rest with his friends.”

“What about Thomas?”

Pierre swallowed hard. “There’s nothing we can do for Thomas, Elijah. You know this.”

Elijah stared at him for a moment before nodding and giving the orders. Pierre left the pilothouse and headed for the salon to think.

Once there, he felt the slight motion of the _Nautilus _turning under his feet as she circled around and slowly began to head south, leaving the frozen world behind. For a long while, he simply stood, lost in thought and unsure if he’d done right. Petrakis had to be buried. Thomas was surely dead, certainly dead, and remaining up here would only entice Nemo to continue searching…

He would search forever, if he had even the slightest shred of hope that Thomas was still alive. Even if he did not, he would keep hunting for his body. Pierre knew Nemo too well. The captain would rather sever his own foot than abandon a crew member to a horrible fate.

But, Pierre thought grimly, the price was already too high. They could stand the loss of Petrakis, of Thomas. It would be hard, but he knew they could. But they could not lose Nemo. Pierre knew in his heart that as much as he tried to convince himself it was for the crew’s safety, for the sake of Petrakis’s care, it wasn’t. The truth was, Pierre only wanted to protect Nemo. Needed to.

So he stood there, thinking about his choices, his mistakes, wondering if it was all somehow his fault for suggesting coming here, wondering if he could have done more for Petrakis, wondering if Nemo was going to be all right…

He pushed the last thought away and tried to think of nothing at all.

After what seemed like an hour of anxious meditation, Conseil came in. His face was grave, and for one horrid moment Pierre thought Nemo had died, without the man he loved there to comfort him. But Conseil was quick to set things right; “He’s better,” he said. “He’ll be all right, most likely, by morning. But I think that Monsieur ought to come see him.”

“…Why?” Pierre asked. Part of him wanted desperately to throw himself into Nemo’s arms and listen to his gentle reassurances that everything would be fine, but the other part knew that this was unlikely. When the captain learned of all Pierre had done – his failure to save Petrakis, his decision to abandon Thomas - he would probably instead face Nemo’s anger and pain. He wasn’t ready for either.

“He has been asking for you,” Conseil replied, for once not bothering to use the familiar honorific he usually adopted with Pierre. “Since he regained his full awareness. He does not seem to understand why you aren’t with him.”

Pierre closed his eyes, bracing himself. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll go to him at once.” 

Nemo was still in Petrakis’s bed, curled up under several blankets. “He is better,” Conseil said softly, to Pierre. “His temperature is almost back to normal. I told him he could sleep as soon as Monsieur said he could.”

“Thank you, Conseil,” Pierre replied. “You’ve done wonderfully.”

Conseil bowed slightly, aware of his own importance, and left to give the two of them a touch of privacy.

Pierre approached the bedside and Nemo, sensing this, sat up at once. “Pierre. Where were you?”

“I was…” Pierre struggled to think of something convincingly neutral, yet honest. “Attending to the ship and the men. With you down, and Ishaan, they needed someone there.”

“Did they not have Dougal? Petrakis? How is Petrakis, by the way? Is he in my quarters, or Dougal’s?”

“How are you?” Pierre asked quietly, changing the subject.

Nemo paused. “Freezing. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel warm again,” his face was pale, and he looked desperately tired, but he was sitting up, alert and much stronger than he’d been. “But I can’t imagine how it is for Thomas. I need to go back out there –“ he started to get up.

“No,” Pierre rested a hand on Nemo’s shoulder. “Stay here and rest, please. Once you’re warmer and have gotten some sleep we can discuss it further.”

“How am I supposed to rest with Thomas out there? Frozen, perhaps dying? He needs me, Pierre! I have to go to him,” he shook Pierre off and got to his feet again, shuddering once he was outside the warm shell of the blankets. “And by the way, where is Petrakis? You didn’t tell me.”

Pierre hesitated a second too long, and Nemo read the answer in his face. His body tensed, and Pierre drew away from him in case he lashed out in anger. But a second later all that melted away and he staggered back to the bed, putting his head in his hands. “Petrakis.” He murmured in a fractured voice. “Why did I take him out there? Why did we ever separate from each other?”

Pierre’s throat tightened and he went over to Nemo, sitting beside him on the bed. He wondered briefly if this latest shock would do Nemo more harm than he could manage. The captain was still shivering badly and Pierre knew he shouldn’t be uncovered or distressed; he needed warmth, rest, peace.

“You should lie back down,” Pierre said, but Nemo jerked his head back up.

“Thomas,” he whispered raggedly, standing. “If I lost Petrakis, I cannot lose Thomas too. I need to go out, I need to find him. Pierre, let me go,” he said, his tone growing sharper when Pierre grabbed hold of his arm.

“You are not going anywhere!” Pierre said. He got up, putting his hands firmly on Nemo’s shoulders. “Look at yourself! You were nearly dead not an hour ago. You still haven’t fully recovered. You won’t be able to do a thing for Thomas if you get hurt,” In truth, nothing could be done for Thomas now, but Pierre wasn’t about to tell his captain that he’d lost two friends in one day. “You need to stay here, take care of yourself, and let the rest of us handle the search parties. Ishaan can organize a few.”

“See to it that he does,” Nemo said. “But in the meantime you can’t expect me to just lie here while a friend is outside, in danger, and another one lies dead. And the rest of them, they need me, too. To reassure them, to lead them –“

“Stop,” Pierre said. “We can do that. They’ll be more comforted if they’re not worried that you’re about to die from exposure.”

Nemo stared Pierre down for a long minute, but at length he sighed, seeming to deflate as the fight left him. Pierre kissed his nose. “Please try to rest, all right, my love? You need it.”

“Will you stay with me?” Nemo asked, so softly Pierre almost didn’t hear him.

“Of course,” Pierre thought for a moment that he shouldn’t, that he was needed elsewhere on the ship, taking command while the commanders were down, but… this was more important. Besides, if Pierre’s presence was what convinced Nemo to stay, to sleep, then so be it.

It was stiflingly hot in the room, though. Pierre had begun to sweat even after being in there for only a few minutes. He didn’t care to spend a whole night in here, under several covers, boiling alive. Nemo watched him with mild concern, noticing right away why he hesitated. “We can go back to your room.”

“Are you certain?”

“I’m warm enough, and I don’t care to spend the night in a dead man’s bed. We can go.”

Once there, Nemo fell asleep almost at once. It was good to see; Pierre knew how badly he needed it. He leaned in and kissed Nemo goodnight as was their custom, though he usually did it while Nemo was still awake. He never liked the captain to fall asleep without knowing he was loved. It was a promise he’d made when he agreed to stay aboard the Nautilus for good; when he’d agreed that he wanted to dedicate his life to this man.

He still wanted to. He’d wanted to ask Nemo at the Pole, if he would agree to be his husband, but now that would never happen. With a sigh, Pierre snuggled close to the man he loved, wrapping his arms around him and drawing his body near to his own.

Pierre’s apprehension rose as he felt Nemo shivering in his arms. Brave as he’d been, saying he was warm enough, Pierre knew he wasn’t. He ought to have stayed in the heated room. Even in his sleep he curled up close to Pierre, instinctively trying to gain some of that precious warmth.

Pierre held him tight, rubbing his back gently as he pressed his face into Nemo’s soft hair. He didn’t stir; he was so deeply asleep already. Pierre was getting the sense that he’d been right earlier when he imagined that it was fatigue that caused Nemo’s sudden decline rather than cold. Well, hopefully in a few hours’ time he’d been set right again.

“You did wonderfully, sweetheart,” Pierre whispered to him, hoping in part to comfort himself. “And you’re back with us now. You’re safe. That’s what matters most, by God, you’re safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, it ends, on a much better note than it has been. They really deserve it I think. 
> 
> But, you'll see what Chapter 9 has in store for them!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


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